


Keeping Secrets

by magisterpavus



Series: The Chiquita Chronicles [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Barbed Penis, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Choking, Comfort/Angst, Consentacles, Galra Keith (Voltron), Hallucinogens, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Other, Overstimulation, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Self-Doubt, Spitroasting, Tentacle Sex, i hate that this is a tag ok just hear me out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 02:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14781509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterpavus/pseuds/magisterpavus
Summary: Keith likes telling secrets, and Chiquita likes keeping them. They make a good team.But Keith never tells her his own secrets. He never tells anyone.





	Keeping Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> this is for the lovely [Savannah~](https://literal-fandomtrash.tumblr.com/)
> 
> enjoy ;)

Chiquita is good at keeping secrets.

Keith, of course, knew this from the beginning. But over the weeks which quickly turn into months, he’s reminded of it again and again. See, Keith likes to tell secrets to Chiquita. Secrets about Lance and Shiro, especially. Secrets that she can use to make them squirm and scream and moan and cry and come until they forget anything and everything that troubled them in the first place. 

Keith likes telling secrets, and Chiquita likes keeping them. They make a good team.

But Keith never tells her his own secrets. In fact, he’s never really told anyone. Not Shiro, who he trusts with his life and who has certainly seen him – and had him – in all sorts of compromising positions. And not Lance, who is an open book and an eager, generous lover in every way, and who might joke but rarely judges. 

Still, Keith can’t bring himself to tell them. He likes pleasing his partners, anyway, and it isn’t like he’s displeased. He’s content with the state of things. Content, he tries to persuade himself, is good enough. 

Apparently he’s doing a poor job of persuading himself of that, though, because after one exhausting (and thoroughly wonderful) afternoon with Chiquita, she tugs him back after Shiro and Lance stumble off to their rooms. Keith blinks dumbly at the thin but strong vines encircling his wrists and waist, and lets out a dry, uncertain chuckle. “Decided you aren’t done with me yet? Shiro and Lance’ll get jealous...”

Chiquita sits him down on a makeshift seat made of, you guessed it, more vines. She’s so large and her vine structure so extensive at this point that it’s a little absurd, but Keith sits gingerly and waits, head tilted. She writes on the floor in front of him, _ something is bothering you. _

Keith frowns. “Me? I’m fine, Chiqui.”

She quivers in obvious disagreement. 

He shakes her tendrils off and folds his arms. “What.”

She pokes his knee.  _ you have been much quieter than usual. _

Keith flushes. “You know I’m not as noisy at those two,” he mumbles, “definitely not as noisy as Lance –”

_ keith. you’re lying.  _

Keith opens his mouth hastily to protest, sweat beading on his brow and nails digging into his thighs, but Chiquita stops him with a soft stroke across his cheek and more writing on the ground.

_ i do not wish to bring you more distress. i only wanted to try to talk with you about it, if you wish. it may help. _

Keith licks his dry lips nervously. “Chiqui...I appreciate it, but...I haven’t told anyone. I don’t even know if I can tell you. I’m sorry.”

_ do not be sorry,  _ she assures at once.  _ i never meant to make you feel bad.  _

Keith scratches his head and looks away. “It isn’t that,” he sighs. “I just...Chiqui, I’m not sure how to explain it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

She reacts immediately, vines rushing to pet him as much as possible and tendrils scrawling out,  _ there is nothing wrong with you!  _

Keith makes a face. “While I appreciate the vote of confidence, Chiqui...I’m pretty sure there is. It’s definitely not normal.”

_ well, _ Chiqui writes, slower, _ i am not normal by human standards either. abnormal does not mean ‘bad.’ _

Keith bites his lip. “You have to promise not to tell Shiro or Lance. Please.”

_ i promise, of course. _

“Okay.” Keith exhales forcefully. “I think...I think I like pain.”

_?!?!? _

He winces. Yeah, pretty much the reaction he expected. “During sex, I mean,” he adds. The vines flinch back, shocked. “I know. And it’s not...it doesn’t feel like a, uh, kink, either. I mean, Lance  _ likes _ being humiliated and praised, and Shiro  _ likes _ being overwhelmed and taken care of, but this feels like a  _ need, _ not a want. Like something that’s hardwired into me.” Keith chews his lip harder. “It’s always been there, but lately...it’s getting more difficult to ignore. It’s just this itch all over whenever I’m hard, or fucking, or being fucked – I don’t know what to do about it.”

Chiquita is quiet and still. Then, tentatively, she writes,  _ i suppose the natural solution would be to deal with it. _

“You mean, ask them to hurt me?” Keith exclaims. “Shiro and Lance? I don’t know. I don’t think they’d be into it, and I think they’d feel bad knowing I wasn’t fully satisfied with what we’ve been doing all this time.”

_ you could ask me, _ Chiquita writes. Keith bites his lip so hard it bleeds and a tremor goes through her vines; a thin tendril lifts up to gently wipe the droplets of blood away.  _ or not. i would never pressure you into something like this. _

He’s conflicted. “But...isn’t that the complete opposite of your entire purpose?” Keith ventures. “You’re meant to heal and help, not hurt.”

_ it sounds as if this drive is causing you distress, and if there is a way to ease that distress, i will help you with it. and i would never seriously harm you.  _

Keith looks down at the floor. “It’s a very specific kind of hurt,” he mutters. She pats his wrist in encouragement. “It’s...alien.”

Chiquita pauses, then writes,  _ you think it’s your galra side.  _

Keith wrings his hands. “Maybe? I...I don’t know! I barely understand that side of myself; if I’m being honest it scares me sometimes. But when I spend long periods of time with the Blade...Chiqui, it’s like I don’t fit in my own skin when I get back to the team.”

_ when you return to be among the humans, you mean. _ Keith nods reluctantly and she pauses to think again, tracing mindless circles on the floor.  _ hmm...this actually does make sense, keith. i know a few things about the galra – princess allura allowed me to listen to some of the old altean history files awhile back.  _

Keith frowns. “But...you hate the Galra. You said once that their technology is corrupted; that it repulses you.”

Chiquita wriggles in dismay.  _ i do not hate anyone! oh, keith...do you think i would hate your galra side? i do not. you are you and i care about you very much. no, while galran technology contains corrupted quintessence that i dislike, galrans themselves are quite fascinating.  _

Keith licks his lips. “Yeah? What, um...what do you know?”

_ the knowledge that would be relevant to your situation, i think, is the fact that galran mating is an infamously violent affair. _

Keith blanches and takes a step back, even as goosebumps raise on his arms in a not altogether bad way. “What?” he hisses. “What do you mean,  _ violent?!” _

_ galra are not gentle lovers, typically, _ Chiquita continues.  _ in earlier stages of evolution, males would fight in bloody battles to secure mates, and thus would be still filled with bloodlust and the need to stake a claim during the actual act of mating. the females were never seriously hurt, of course, as this would be detrimental to the reproduction process, but fertile females were as receptive to pain and roughness as the males were eager to cause it. it’s thought that this innate desire remains in modern galra to some extent... _

Keith is sweating and he’s not sure why. He’s still confused, but there’s also a heat deep in his belly that he knows all too well. “But,” he starts, and swallows. “But I’m male. And I don’t...I don’t want to  _ cause _ pain, I want to, um, receive it, so...that makes no sense.”

_ ah, well,  _ Chiquita writes, faltering,  _ galran sexes are different...how to explain...i suppose it is less female or male and more...virile or receptive.  _

“But I’m still not – Chiqui, I have a dick! You’ve seen my dick!” Keith is pleading at this point, but he’s not quite sure what he’s pleading for. 

_ your hormones may not recognize that you do not have the necessary organs for childbearing,  _ Chiquita adds.  _ which is unfortunate, but not a lost cause. hormones may be tricked. _

Keith folds his arms, still sweating. “Are you suggesting I just let a ‘virile’ Galra have at me? Sorry, but I don’t think Kolivan and I are that close,” he says dryly. 

Chiquita’s vines coil around his ankles at once, something distinctly protective and even possessive in their tight firm curl.  _ absolutely not, _ Chiquita writes.  _ i would never put you in harm’s way. no, i am suggesting i assist you as best i can.  _

Keith blinks, tilting his head. “I...no offense, Chiqui, but you’re...not a Galra. You don’t have claws and teeth and all that. You’re very, um...soft.”

_ all the parts you have seen of me are soft, yes, _ Chiquita writes, slower,  _ but you forget we friendly vines are well-known for our...adaptation. i can make it work, if you would like. _

It isn’t much of a mental debate – between seeking out a random Galra and Chiquita, he knows which one he’d rather do. So Keith nods and says, “Yes. Okay. Yes.”

_ good,  _ Chiquita writes, and Keith shivers.  _ soon, then. i will need some time. until then...seek solace in Lance and Shiro. they care for you and want you to be pleased. _

Keith nods again, and yeah, he’s definitely hard. “Thanks,” he whispers. She strokes his cheek fondly, nudges him on his way, and Keith stumbles out feeling dizzy and desperate in a way he’s never been before. 

*

When Keith gets back to their room, Shiro and Lance are sleeping. Keith doesn’t want to disturb them – Chiquita didn’t hold back, and by all rights Keith should be as exhausted and drained as they are. But his dick’s hard again, and he fumbles to unbutton and unzip his pants, practically limping over to the bed. He only knows that he needs to be near the two of them, and almost sobs when he gets a hand on his cock and topples onto the bed between them, the two other paladins tucked close on either side. 

Keith tries not to make a sound, really tries, but when his frantic fingers slip on the slime Chiquita left behind on the rim of his tender hole, he moans, soft and a little pained. It’s too much, but not enough. It’s never enough, never, never,  _ fuck –  _

“Mm? Keith?” Lance is the first to wake up, blinking sleepily and petting Keith’s hair absentmindedly, and Keith jerks, cock twitching and dribbling out precum at the touch. Lance blinks faster, some clarity returning to his gaze. “Oh my god – dude, wha…”

“Pull my hair,” Keith grunts, squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to see the look on Lance’s face. “C’mon, please, please –”

Lance yanks his hair so hard his scalp burns and Keith’s hips jump up from the bed, legs splaying in a way that is most definitely instinct, and he pushes two fingers inside himself at once. “Holy shit,” Lance whispers, “Shiro – wake up –”

Shiro’s awake, and his metal hand falls heavy on Keith’s bare waist. He noses under Keith’s jaw and when Keith gasps, “Bite me,” Shiro does it, lazy and soft at first, then harder and with more strength, more threat behind it when Keith urges him to, until Keith knows he’ll be leaving bruises. Shiro’s nails scrape lightly over his ribs and Keith arches into it, his cock visibly twitching, his fingers faltering inside himself. 

In the hazy dark of his mind he imagines a stranger towering over him, a stranger with violet skin and golden eyes and claws that rip into him with a kind of urgent, vicious intimacy; white teeth gleaming in the shadows, hot blood spurting over hot skin, a heavy body pinning him, forcing him to give in, to give himself up, to open his legs and his body and himself because he knows that afterwards, when he is heavy with his mate’s seed and his hopeless ache has finally been sated, his mate will be his, and he will take care of him, and Keith will be safe and complete and loved.

Keith comes with a wordless, guttural cry and falls into a dreamless sleep seconds after. 

*

Chiquita keeps his secret, and Shiro and Lance know Keith likes it rough from time to time, so they don’t question him too much.

“I’m just twenty and horny,” Keith says when Lance asks him. 

“Dude, nineteen and horny, high five,” Lance says easily. Keith gives him a high five. 

Shiro is a little more suspicious. “You sure everything’s okay?” he presses.

“Yeah,” Keith says. He loves Shiro and Lance, but he doesn’t feel ready to explain to either of them that he’s having visions of a nonexistent Galra mate fucking him into oblivion and then cuddling him tenderly afterwards to facilitate their bond so they can raise their offspring together. It’s a can of worms he’d like to keep closed. 

Shiro squints. “Keith.”

“I’m sure,” Keith sighs, and kisses him on the cheek, leaving Shiro flustered and pink. “Really. I just like biting and hair-pulling; this isn’t news.”

“Okay,” Shiro squeaks, touching his face where Keith kissed him. “Alright, Keith, if you’re sure.”

“I am.” Keith kisses him again for good measure, and then Lance, who’s dramatically pouting across the room. 

Keith hopes he’s telling the truth. He hopes Chiquita will be able to help, somehow.

*

It takes a week and a half before Chiquita is ready for him.

She stays in relative seclusion during that time; Lance and Shiro are concerned when she gently ushers them out and claims she’s tired and not in the mood, but they of course respect her wishes. Keith stops by her room a few times, and every time she keeps most of her tentacles coiled away in her bulb and in tight furls like ferns, but she always extends a single tendril and asks for details from him. 

_ do you want to be marked? _

“Yes.”

_ do you want me to make you bleed? _

Swallow. “Not...not inside, but, ah, other places, yes…”

_ do you want me to hold you down or keep you suspended? _

“Either, as long as I’m pinned to something solid.”

_ how do you want me to prepare you? _

Keith flushes at this, because he’s already thought of it. “I think,” he manages, “Galra do that with their, um, with their tongues.”

_ what are your thoughts on choking? _

“Yes.”

_ bondage? _

“Just pin me down, no rope.”

_ biting? _

“Please.”

_ cock or tentacle? _

“Cock. Mostly.”

_ fast or slow? _

“Fast and rough but...inhuman stamina.”

_ repeated orgasms, then? _

“Maybe.” Keith licks his lips and her tendrils stutter at the soft sound. “Use my body, just…”

_ fill you up?  _

Keith whispers, “Yes.”

Sometimes she asks for details Keith had never even consciously considered before.

_ how many? _

He blinks. “How many what?”

_ how many fucking you? _

Keith’s brain whites out for a second, sudden and violent. Chiquita hurries to steady him. Keith’s breath is short at the thought of himself in the middle of a circle of Galra, eyes hungry and cocks hard, dripping with arousal and the need to mate, wetness gathering at the join of Keith’s thighs, their nostrils flaring as they smell it, pressing closer, desperate to be inside him, taking turns in their frenzy as Keith’s spine bows to their demands, his body stretched wide and made filthy with seed from so many, each hoping to knock him up with their offspring. 

It’s an overwhelming thought which he shakily voices to Chiquita.

_ but is that what you want? _ she writes, stroking his jaw. _ i can tell you are frightened by the thought. _

Keith runs a hand through his hair, looking at the floor and biting his lip. “I think Galra are...there’s some kind of pack mentality. You know? But I don’t...I wasn’t raised in a pack. I was alone. And I think...I think that would be too much. Maybe. I like the idea of...of one mate. Maybe two.”

_ like shiro and lance. _

Keith stiffens. “They aren’t...they’re human.”

_ they are closer to galra than i am, keith.  _

“I’m not ready to tell them this stuff,” Keith admits, shaking his head. “Don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

_ don’t say that before we’ve even tried to solve this,  _ Chiquita admonishes.  _ wait and see. i think you might be surprised. _

So Keith waits.

*

He is surprised.

Chiquita arranges for him to meet her in her room the following night, and Keith arrives a couple minutes late, nervous and not knowing what to expect. 

The room is dark save for a few warm, glowing wall sconces; Chiquita likes low lighting more, which implies she can see, somehow. Keith doesn’t know quite how she works, even after all this time knowing her intimately. He’s on guard, eying the faint sway of shadows towards the back of the room where he knows her bulb is, but none advance, and she does not write anything. She’s waiting for him to make the first move.

Or...or, she’s just watching him. Waiting. Stalking, even. The hair on the back of Keith’s neck raises – he thinks he understands. She’s going to try to  _ catch _ him. 

Keith breaks into a run towards the door to test his theory.

Sure enough, two huge tentacles shoot out from the gloom, striking out at him, trying to make a grab for his waist. Keith darts away from them, quick and light on his feet, and feels the faint brush of one through his shirt as it barely misses him. More tentacles rise up and extend, many dripping with syrupy ooze, honey-colored and just as sweet. Keith stumbles at the thought, and a tentacle finds purchase around his ankle, tugging sharply. Keith tries to twist away but another encircles his waist, and then two more around each arm, and Keith’s struggling is useless; he goes down hard with a shout.

Before his knees can connect with the hard ground, though, Chiquita yanks him upwards with terrifying ease, and Keith finds himself at once surrounded by a writhing mass of tentacles, trapping him completely and utterly. Keith continues to struggle despite this, and only stills when something  _ sharp _ rakes down his back, ripping his shirt as it goes. His breath catches; has Chiquita grown _ claws?! _

The vines around him thrum, or perhaps the sound is from the broader, leafier appendages around Chiquita’s bulb, but either way the frequency is low enough to be a growl. Keith growls back, baring his teeth and thrashing with renewed desperation, only to be silenced with a yelp as the claws slash his shirt away fully and dig into his sides. Keith thinks they’ve drawn blood, and his heart pounds, body trembling with a strange mixture of adrenaline and arousal. 

Vines tighten and pulse around him. On an instinctual level, he is bewildered – he knows this is Chiquita, not a Galra at all. But then a heavy weight presses over his back, and it’s not smooth and slimy like the other vines, but rather textured with something that feels almost like fur, soft as velvet but rough over his skin when his struggling rubs it the wrong way. It’s another vine, it has to be, but Keith jolts with surprise when a long, wet tongue rasps over the back of his neck. 

_ “What,” _ he gasps, only to yelp again when what feels like teeth scrape across his skin, and Keith’s head is swirling with questions – how did Chiquita synthesize this, is it really bone or is it some kind of keratin structure, how did this only take a week and a half, how is this possible, what else did she –  _ holy shit that’s a dick. _

The teeth scrape slower, almost teasing, and two strong vines work their way under him like arms, one forcing his body to arch, the other pinning his head down, forcing it against the writhing mass of tentacles supporting him. Keith can barely focus when the fluffy vine is covering him and rutting what is clearly a hardening dick over his clothed ass. The feeling of the vine over him is truly alien – it’s pure muscle, not skin and bone and fat like a real Galra would be, but it’s enough for Keith’s eager brain to fill in the blanks. And it does. 

One of the arms, a thick vine tipped with the keratinized claws, reaches behind him, tugging at his pants. Keith jerks and hisses, snapping his jaws at the closest tendril. It shies away and is at once replaced by a much larger tentacle which wraps around his neck viciously. Keith chokes, eyes wide at Chiquita’s roughness – she’s not holding back. He can feel the raw uncoiled strength in every movement, in the threatening squeeze against his throat and the harsh edges of the claws over the backs of his thighs as they drag his pants down, a silent warning to stay still. Keith swallows, whining low in his throat, and the vine’s muscle flexes against his back, feeling the tenseness in his body. 

It’s hard for Keith to let go, even like this, even when he asked for this in the first place. He squeezes his eyes shut and is endlessly grateful that Chiquita can tell he needs a moment; she pauses, and the vines do too. The one around his neck loosens, and he inhales unsteadily in the silence. 

Then a tiny tendril prods gently at the corner of his lips, oozing sweetness that makes his mouth warmer as he sucks curiously at it. Keith panics for a moment when the warmth escalates to a strange tingling, his vision blurring when he opens his eyes, the world tilting on its axis. The fluffy vine tenses again when Keith twists in its hold, blinking furiously as the vines shift in his vision, one of the claw-tipped ones lifting towards his face – Keith freezes, eyes huge. 

It’s...it’s a hand. A Galra hand. He _ knows _ it isn’t really; he  _ knows _ that whatever that innocent little tendril gave him is making him see things differently...but he doesn’t want to think about it. His mind is not in the mood for thinking, especially when he hears another growl, this one louder, clearer, closer, followed by the hot press of a strong body to his own. A Galran body, which he  _ knows _ is in reality made up of many tentacles twisting in a vaguely humanoid form, but which his body accepts as the real deal with a quickness that is almost embarrassing. Almost. 

Keith can’t be embarrassed when the false Galra’s thick cock drags over the now-bare curve of his ass, so slick it drips between his cheeks and over his hole. Keith doesn’t expect the high-pitched whimper that leaves his lips at this, and apparently neither does Chiquita, because the false Galra growls louder, claws locking onto Keith’s shoulder and neck, body flexing and bearing down over him, rutting its cock in needy rolls of its hips. Keith thinks he should still be struggling, so he gives a halfhearted wriggle, and gets a nip to the nape of his neck for his efforts.

Fuck, that feels good. Keith wants more of that; more biting, yes, yes, he wants its teeth in his skin – he must have said his aloud, because the next second he gets it, and Keith’s cry echoes through the dim room eerily. He thinks, dizzily, that he doesn’t sound human at all. Not animal, either. Something different, something alien. The teeth in the join of his neck and shoulder withdraw with a sting that makes him hiss, and blood drips down the column of his throat. 

The false Galra laps it up, making a mess of spit and blood on him, all the while rutting its cock so close to where Keith needs it, but not enough, never quite enough. Keith pushes back into it, and the false Galra snarls – a sound that is not quite a sound, not a real sound but real enough in Keith’s hazy mind – and pins Keith completely with a single hand, spreading his ass with the other. 

Warm breath feathers over his dry hole and then its tongue plunges in. Keith’s moan is so loud it’s more of a shout, and the false Galra chuckles, rough and low and torturous inside him.  _ You like that?  _ Keith imagines it saying as his eyes roll back in his head and his cock fills out fully where it hangs between his spread thighs.  _ Such a little slut. _

But no, no, Keith’s not a slut at all; in fact this was the culmination of a long, long ritual of courtship, of battle and victory and chase and capture and struggle and it means that Keith is a desirable mate, and in the end this is his call, his choice, and despite its violent appearance this is still part of a ritual to please him, to prove his mate’s worth. Keith could still refuse it.

Keith says this in fragmented sentences, and the false Galra pauses, leaving his hole open and wet, fuck, Keith doesn’t understand how he’s so ready to be fucked already. His thoughts falter, though, when one of the clawed hands strokes his face softly, hesitantly, as if to ask,  _ Do you want to refuse? _

And Keith doesn’t. He doesn’t, because for the first time he can feel in total clarity the exact sensation he’s been craving, and he knows this was it, this was what he needed, because when the false Galra licks inside of him again, Keith changes. His body, which had been strung tight and uncertain, snaps with twinges of pain that resolve into blessed relief, pleasure that sings through his veins as his teeth elongate and sharpen, his hair thickens and purples, his ears taper to curved points, his skin blotches with violet and magenta, and his body shifts where the false Galra’s tongue breaches him. 

The vines startle back in surprise as Keith groans and shoves his ass back towards them, slick fluid running down his inner thighs and filling the air with a scent that makes his nose and his cock twitch – pheromones, he thinks dazedly, though not human ones. It smells like pure, unadulterated  _ sex, _ and perhaps it has some effect on Chiquita, too, because the next second the blunt head of the false Galra’s cock is rubbing over his wet hole, teasing at the rim as Keith moans and kicks not in resistance but in desperation. 

“Please,” Keith finds himself gasping, or growling, or both, “please, please, need it, now,  _ now.”  _ The last word is nearly snarled, and the vines holding him tighten to the point of bruising, obeying the unspoken command to hold him and fuck him until he’s satisfied, and then some. 

Keith arches when its cock drives into him, a thrust without any of Chiquita’s usual teasing or slow inner stroking; it feels like a cock, not a tentacle, but it’s not a human cock. It’s thicker, for one, especially at the base, and Keith feels the thinner, pointier taper of the tip, and feels too the constant flow of precum that slicks its way inside him, along with the fluid inside Keith, making everything wet and easy. 

Almost too easy – Keith shifts in frustration, whining wordlessly for more...and then the cock plunges its barbs into him. 

Keith howls, eyes flying wide and body clamping down in shock. The Galra’s cock, smooth and thick on the way in, has sprouted what feel like lines of  _ actual fucking spikes _ along its already sizeable length, and although it’s hard to tell considering they’re both inside of him and stabbing him, Keith guesses they’re not exactly tiny. But – and here’s the thing – it’s a total mindfuck, because it  _ should  _ hurt, and it does, kind of, but when Keith shifts experimentally, wrenching a breathy gasp from his own throat as he does, it also feels fucking _ incredible. _

The barbs aren’t completely rigid, nor completely sharp – they’re just rigid enough to stretch him wider and just sharp enough to scrape inside him in a way that sends electric shudders of pain-pleasure up his spine, but there’s give to them when the false Galra thrusts deeper, and then rocks its cock out only to plunge back in again. Keith thinks that his transformation must have made this part easier to bear, and then stops thinking altogether when the Galra’s cock finds his prostate and he shouts, biting his lip with his new sharp teeth hard enough to bleed, his wrists aching as they flex in the other pulsing tentacles’ grasps. 

Tendrils swipe over his lips, chasing the blood as it trickles down his chin, swiping it up in a way that is almost hungry before wriggling into Keith’s mouth, painting his tongue with a baffling mixture of copper-iron and honey-sweet flavors. Keith’s cock is ignored, but he’s hyper-aware of its hardness – it also changed in the transformation, and feels heavier than before, bouncing against his belly as the false Galra fucks him harder, following Keith’s breathless moans and wordless pleas. 

Occasionally Keith’s cock will catch a faint brush of friction from Chiquita’s twisting vines below, but it’s not enough, and Keith bites vindictively at the tendrils fluttering around his mouth. It’s a mistake when his fangs nick one, spilling a much more bitter liquid onto his tongue and sending the other tendrils scattering. Keith freezes as the false Galra stills, the barbs catching inside of him, reminding him once again that he can’t escape this, and that he’s going to feel this claiming for days. Keith is trapped, hopelessly entangled like the prey in a spider’s web.

Keith whimpers, ears flicking back as he realizes he’s hurt Chiquita, drawn blood, in a way. One of the clawed hands wrenches his head back and Keith whimpers again, blinking frantically, opening his mouth to apologize – only for his mouth to be filled by another Galra cock. 

Keith yelps around it in surprise and bewilderment – he only has one mate, and that mate is fucking him, so who – what – he chokes on slick skin pulsing with arousal, unable to move his head away as the clawed hands hold him in place and force his throat onto the twitching tip of the other Galra’s cock. This one is longer, slimmer and textured with bumps along its curved length, and Keith sucks sloppily, cautiously, afraid of the barbs that will surely cut his mouth open. His whimpers take on a fearful quality and the claws loosen their hold on his hair, a velvet-soft palm stroking over his cheek, a whisper that is not truly there saying,  _ Do not be afraid, little one. _

Because Keith  _ is _ little, and all at once he is painfully aware of it – the two Galra, who flicker like desert mirages in his hazy vision as he peers up at them, one looming over him from behind as it fucks him, the other holding his head and jaw as it guides its cock in and out of his mouth, are huge in comparison. They look nothing like him, even with his semi-Galran features as apparent as they will ever and can ever be. Keith wilts at the realization – he is not full Galra, worse, he is half human, puny and weak and ugly and unfit to call himself one of them –

Claws lock around his hips and the cock inside him swells, drawing a startled cry from Keith’s lips which is muffled around the other Galra’s cock in his mouth, eliciting a flood of precum from the slim tip.  _ You are not unfit, _ a low voice hisses in his pricked ear,  _ you are one of us, you are ours,  _ ours, _ do you not feel how much we want you? _

Keith whines, ashamed and flushing in denial, ears drooping and jaw aching as the Galra’s cock stuffs his mouth full; fuller as it jerks and spills down his throat with an unexpected rush of heat. Keith gags, struggling to swallow, and this sets the other Galra off, its claws raking jagged pink lines down his heaving sides as it yanks Keith’s hips back into its increasingly arrhythmic thrusts. Keith squirms and gasps as the second Galra’s softening cock falls from his mouth, cum dribbling down his chin, mixing with the blood there, making a pink frothy mess all down his neck. 

Vines stroke and lap at it lovingly, and Keith closes his eyes in a kind of stunned ecstasy as the first Galra’s cock swells inside him, but this time it is localized, a round distension at his rim, pushing inside, pushing his body to its limit. Keith moans and jerks in his bonds, stilled by warm palms sliding down his spine, urging him to stay down, to submit, to allow the claim. 

_ You are Galra, _ two voices whisper, voices that Keith knows but which are distorted, just out of reach.  _ You are worthy of this, of us, of all. _

The first Galra’s knot splits him wide, plugs him up as its cock floods him with hot cum, and Keith comes untouched. The sound that leaves him as he does is a sob of sheer relief. His body seizes so hard that he blacks out for a few seconds, or perhaps a few minutes, his pulsing cock milked by the ever-helpful tendrils until there’s no more left to give. Keith’s body is heavy, still so full, and he has a vague thought that Chiquita might have pushed her seeds into him – but no, it’s all cum, thick with virility that is terribly convincing despite the sheer impossibility of it. 

Even after shifting, Keith doubts his body would be able to bear young – his belly is swollen, he feels it in his gut, though if he closes his eyes he can almost imagine a womb instead. He isn’t sure how the thought makes him feel. 

But he is sure how it makes him feel when the vines slowly lower him, looping one after the other around his body like so many arms, tracing over the scratches and bites and bruises and smears of blood and cum scattered across his skin like a messy canvas. Each touch makes Keith shiver, his eyes cracking open, seeking for the last time the blurry faces of the two Galra, there but not quite, always out of focus enough to be featureless unknowns. 

Keith’s heart aches for them anyway, figments of his mind though they may be. He wants to reach out, to touch, but doesn’t quite have the strength to. He blinks and they flicker, falter – they’re going to leave. Like everyone else, they’re leaving him.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until little tendrils brush the tears away, concern evident as the vines place him in the massive pile of pillows and blankets, fussing over him one by one. Out of the corner of his eye, Keith can see Chiquita writing on the ground, trying to communicate, but he can’t seem to lift his head. Perhaps in an attempt to snap him out of it, Chiquita starts to tug the false Galra’s cock free of his body, but Keith panics, instinctively closing his legs tight and clenching down on the knot, trying to keep it there, to keep himself filled and claimed. If he isn’t, someone else might come along. Keith knows his mate isn’t really there, but he wants to pretend. Has to pretend.

Chiquita pets his hair frantically. Keith whimpers softly, and closes his eyes. He thought he just needed a hard fuck but it was more than that. He hadn’t known. He’s saying sorry, and Chiquita is just petting him with increasing desperation; she can’t do much else. When Chiquita’s petting reaches a fever pitch, Keith opens his eyes, and her tendrils form a small, quivering heart. Keith sighs, and says sorry again. The heart falls apart, and the tendrils go back to petting him.

But out of the corner of Keith’s eye, he sees a small bundle of vines break away from the rest, detaching themselves like a lizard’s tail, writhing on their own along the ground in a small green ball that looks like an octopus. Keith watches them ooze their way over to the door, which they manage to open after a great deal of struggling, then close tight as they leave. Keith mumbles, “Didn’t know you could do that.”

Chiquita goes into a flurry of movement at his voice, and lifts up his head gently so he can see what she’s written on the floor.  _ keith. keith. keith please wake up oh no please im sorry i only wanted to help i am getting help now  _

Keith swallows. His throat is raw. “Chiqui,” he whispers. “Not your fault. Mine. I thought –”

The tendrils shake, and Keith recognizes that gesture –  _ no. _

_ not your fault,  _ she writes, and underlines it. Keith sighs again, eyes prickling anew with tears just as the door flies open. Shiro and Lance hurry in, eyes wide and faces ashen. Lance is holding the slimy bundle of severed green vines in his arms. 

Keith tenses, makes a piteous sound, and curls into as tight a ball as he can manage, ears pinned back and glowing golden eyes peering at them warily from behind the thick fringe of his hair. Chiquita’s covered him with a blanket for some semblance of decency, but they’re coming closer; they’ll know soon enough. 

She didn’t think to erase the words on the ground, and Lance and Shiro exchange horrified looks when they see them. The horror doesn’t leave when they take in Keith’s appearance fully. Keith cowers. Not human enough, and not Galra enough. Keith doesn’t know what that makes him. Unwanted, he supposes. 

But then they reach out, tentative and cautious as if approaching a wounded animal, and Keith flinches hard, all at once ashamed that he thought they were not enough and in doing so forced Chiquita to be something she was not. He’s selfish, isn’t he? He must be, and they must know it, so why are they kneeling down next to him with such soft eyes and voices and touches? 

Why is Lance saying, “Keith, hey, buddy, it’s okay, you’re okay, we’re here,” and why is Shiro stroking his hair back from his face and murmuring, “We’re here for you, Keith, shhh,” and why is Keith seeing the Galra again, the two Galra fading in and out over Shiro and Lance?

Keith thinks he knows why, actually.

He makes a quiet sound and leans his head into their palms, eyes closing when their warmth seeps into his skin. How are they not disgusted, dismayed, even angry that he kept this from them? He doesn’t know, but they are none of those things, considering Lance is scratching his fluffy ears with a lopsided smile, and Shiro is slowly pulling back the blanket, surveying the damage done with a look that is not judgmental, but rather considering, calculating,  _ curious. _

Then he sees where Keith is still filled and flushes, and Lance sees and flushes too, and Keith hides his face in the pillows. 

“Hey,” Shiro says, rubbing Keith’s cheekbone with his thumb in slow, small circles. “Baby, it’s okay. Tell us what’s wrong?”

Keith gulps. “Don’t want to be alone,” he whispers. 

Lance frowns. “Hey, you’re not,” he says, “we’re right here. Chiquita’s here.”

Chiquita begins writing on the floor again, and Keith bets she’s explaining everything to them, based upon their changing expressions. Shiro is the first to look back at him. “You want another Galra,” he says. It’s quiet but it feels like a punch to the gut for Keith.

He shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I don’t know what I want. I thought I did, but then they weren’t there, they left me –”

“They?” Lance asks. “Who is they?”

Keith doesn’t make eye contact with either of them. “My...my mates,” he mumbles. “It’s stupid, I know, but my body just – and my mind – I don’t know…”

“Aren’t we your mates?” Shiro asks, and Keith falters.

“We may not be Galra, but c’mon, does that really matter? Don’t get too technical with it. We love you, we’re there for you, and we’re like family, Keith,” Lance says, cupping his cheek sweetly. “That’s what matters, yeah? No purple skin or claws or fangs needed. I mean, Chiquita’s a pretty far cry from a Galra, but she’s still here for you, yeah?”

Keith nods, hesitant, but still looks away. “I...know this is fucked up,” he whispers. “I don’t want any of you to feel like you’re not good enough –”

“And we don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough,” Shiro finishes firmly, his hand heavy on Keith’s bruised and clawed hip. “Because you are good enough, Keith, and we want to give you what you want.”

Keith shivers; their gazes are dark and meaningful, and Chiquita’s tendrils flicker over his bare skin with purpose. “Besides,” Lance says, “I think this entire relationship is pretty much established on weirdness. What’s a little more? Lay it on us, babe.”

“I just. I just feel like I don’t fit into either world,” Keith admits. “Like neither humans or Galra want me.”

“We want you, Keith,” Shiro murmurs, leaning closer, “how could we not? Look at you. Beautiful, no matter what form you take.”

Keith’s breath catches, and then again when the cock inside him shifts into something different, thinner and more flexible and smooth, a familiar tentacle that strokes inside him as the cum oozes out around it. Keith groans at the sensation, distantly embarrassed but unable to focus on that when Lance is leaning in and kissing him, and then his teeth catch on Keith’s lower lip and bite down  _ hard,  _ teasing at where Keith’s fangs have broken the skin. 

When Lance pulls away, Keith sees Chiquita’s written,  _ he wants it rough. claim him, so that he knows he’s yours, and you’re his, and no one else can take him.  _

“Rough,” Shiro muses, fingers tiptoeing down Keith’s cum-splattered chest and belly and towards his rousing cock, “how rough, exactly?”

Lance kisses Keith’s neck, then digs his teeth in until Keith whines and the lavender skin bruises. “Rough enough to leave marks all over him,” Lance croons right into Keith’s ear, and he whines again, louder, cock hardening fully, teased back into arousal by the tantalizing path of Shiro’s fingers, the low timbre of Lance’s voice, and the increasingly sinuous stroking of Chiquita inside of him. 

Shiro’s nails scratch over his belly, inches from the head of his cock, and Keith gasps, “Takashi, touch me,” and Shiro says, “I am touching you,” and Lance chuckles, “Gotta be more specific.”

Keith arches and for the first time Lance and Shiro notice the thick trickle of cum from Keith’s shifted hole, and both of them groan, and Keith can see their pants tenting. It makes his mouth water.  _ Later, _ he thinks. Because right now, they’re entirely focused on him, their shadows falling over him and their hands shaping his body with a reverence that is anything but gentle. Lance bites and sucks bruises and Shiro’s metal hand cups his ass and begins to glow, heating up as it does, until it’s near the point of pain – but never passes that point. Keith squirms and Shiro smacks him, the warm skin giving easily under his palm. Keith cries out, shocked but unmistakably needy, and with newfound enthusiasm Chiquita’s vines wrap around Keith’s thighs, his arms, his throat, binding him once more as her tentacle fucks him to a second finish with all its usual finesse.

But this climax is infinitely better than the first – Keith’s limbs tingle with aching pins and needles, his ass burns from the sharp strike and firm squeeze of Shiro’s hand, his neck and chest sting and throb from Lance’s merciless tongue and teeth, and his cock throbs where dozens of tiny tendrils dance and flick over it, teasing but tender, painting Keith’s skin in lines of warm ooze as the tentacle inside him fattens and comes in sticky pulses, sending him over the edge. 

And this time, Keith is not alone, he is surrounded by warmth and love, in bodies and vines, and two eager mouths claim his slack one as he comes down from the blissful high, and two pairs of hands and countless pairs of vines touch him, ground him, hold him close, and Keith thinks that Chiquita is just as good at sharing secrets as she is at keeping them. 


End file.
